A Divided Command (15 page)

‘My man Lepeé is a tad fond of sipping, I’m afraid. I chastise him but it does little good.’

As they sat down, Pearce was thinking that it was hard to imagine Nelson chastising anyone; it did not seem to be in his nature yet he must have done so many times in his naval career. You did not serve for over two decades and reach not only his rank, but also the appreciation of the likes of Sam Hood, without you had real ability, and the application of discipline was part of that.

‘If I had a guinea,’ Nelson added, ‘for every time one of my officers has told me to dismiss him I would scarce need to worry about taking a prize.’

‘I take it, sir, he has some attribute about which they do not know?’

‘He saved my life, Mr Pearce, though I will allow that God’s hand was in it as much as Lepeé, for I was near death with malaria on a land expedition in the Caribbean. He brought me downriver to safety and a restored health. I cannot just dismiss a man to whom I owe that.’

‘I have friends like that, sir,’ Pearce responded.

This was imparted with real feeling, for if he hardly knew Nelson the man had just gone up several notches in his estimation.

‘And we must hang on to them, Mr Pearce, with all the grip we can muster.’

The wine decanter and two glasses arrived slowly in a far from straight line. The two officers sat in silence as the contents were poured and when that was unsteadily complete the man was kindly dismissed. When conversation did commence it began on general topics eventually settling on those twin naval stalwarts; previous battles and mutual acquaintances, which was fine until Nelson mentioned Ralph Barclay, referring to the conversation that they had engaged in off Tunis the previous year, in which Pearce had told him the story of his illegal impressement.

‘Poor fellow lost an arm at Toulon. Does that not temper your grievance?’

Pearce was not to be put off by his host’s obvious sympathy. ‘No, sir, it does not, given it was an entirely illegal act, a fact I have been seeking to see him chastised for since the day it occurred.’

‘Chastised?’

‘I have an attorney looking into the matter.’

‘Ah!’ came the response, that and the taking of a quick sip of wine. ‘I did know he was very short-handed at the outbreak of war.’

‘Am I to gather, sir, that you approve?’

‘Not entirely, but I can understand why he might be drawn into such an act.’ Seeing a lack of agreement, Nelson continued quickly. ‘You may not know that Barclay, like me, spent five years on the beach and I can tell you, Mr Pearce,
there is not much more debilitating than spending that amount of time without a ship and on half pay. I think you might be astounded, and somewhat sympathetic given your parentage, to hear why I think this happened in my case.’

‘Now, sir, it is my turn to be curious.’

‘Surely it would not surprise you to know that I read some of your father’s pamphlets?’

‘No,’ Pearce lied; it seemed to him very unlikely.

‘I cannot say I agreed with the remedies he proposed, but I will say that Adam Pearce had the right of things in many areas.’

Nelson topped up his wine glass, but in such a way and with such a look on his face as to debar interruption.

‘I was asked – tasked – really, to prepare a report on the state of the rural folk in my area of Norfolk and I spoke as I found. I saw poverty in the extreme, people living in a state of deep anxiety for fear that a bad harvest may bring them starvation. There was no meat on their table, indeed there were many hovels I visited for whom a table was a luxury.’

Nelson, not in any sense a tall man, seemed to shrink into his chair as he spoke and his chin was now close to his chest. ‘I can only say that in speaking with honesty I did nothing for my prospects. I strongly advised some system of relief for the lowest of our brethren but that was not a message those who held the reins of power wanted to hear and they certainly did not want to tell that to the King, though I fear my view, perhaps even the whole report, must have been passed on.’

‘And you think it caused you to be unemployed?’

‘I cannot be certain and I have posed the question, albeit with some timidity, to Lord Hood, who as First Lord turned
down my many written requests for a place. He will not say I was bypassed for that report, but it is wise to remember that he was and is a politician as well as a sailor.’

‘Added to which he is a member of Pitt’s government.’

‘So you see, Mr Pearce, there is a certain amount of fellow-feeling in my assessment of this sorry tale for how are we to make our way in the world and prosper as naval officers without we have a ship and hands enough to crew it. If you tell me that Ralph Barclay stepped outside the strict bounds of the law to get men to crew his ship, after five years of want, I have to tell you that I do have some sympathy for him.’

‘Will it be dinner for just one, Your Honour?’ slurred Lepeé, who had slipped in while Nelson was talking.

‘For two, Lepeé. Mr Pearce is off to Naples and he and I have much to discuss.’

Charlie Taverner seemed to have got himself in a right pickle. The flotilla midshipmen, a good thirty in number, had surrounded him and they were clearly not best pleased with whatever it was he had been saying to them. One, not young by any means but a burly fellow, had him by the scruff, while the rest were loud in their growling. Rufus, who had half entertained the idea of a repeat of his earlier encounter, had to detach himself from the group of overblown madams to whom he was talking and grab hold of Michael to come to the rescue.

‘Say anything like that again, you swab, and we’ll set you face down in the privy.’

‘I is only passing on to you what I heard,’ Charlie cried. ‘I was having a quiet wet and along comes a whole tribe of bullocks, everyone an officer, who then sat down and began to drink like they hadn’t seen water for a week. Well, I kept my head down with the likes of those coves around and by doing so I heard every word they said, not that it were hard, seeing as how they were braying loud.’

‘Bullocks you say?’

‘Redcoats to a man and 65th Foot, I gathered, ’cos they mentioned their regiment more’n once as the best in the whole army.’

‘You,’ Michael shouted, ‘let him be or by the name of Jesus you’ll feel my hand.’

When those facing Charlie turned to the sound of that call, their expressions as closed up as their fists and very ready to dispute, they had a moment’s hesitation; O’Hagan was a sight to instil caution in any man. There was his sheer height and girth, as well as a face that was bright red – if they thought because of fury, Rufus reckoned it to be more to do with drink – and his great hams, with knuckles like walnuts, were raised up and fearsome.

Added to that, some of the seamen present, seeing there might be a chance to clout some of the mids with whom they sailed, jumped-up little bastards to their way of thinking, had moved to back Michael up, while to their rear the men the owner had sent out with clubs seemed ready to intervene if matters got out of hand. It was sufficient to give overall pause, but really it was the victim who took the heat out.

‘Belay, Michael,’ Charlie called, ‘for these fine fellows have a right to hear what I learnt.’

‘Fine fellows, my arse,’ came a comment from behind O’Hagan.

‘Happen you has the measure of it,’ spoke up another, ‘but it would be fair to hear what all the fuss is about.’

Charlie called, so he was now talking to the room, ‘I was just telling this fellow here what the bullocks said about their Commodore Nelson, for it were not praise – far from it.’

That got a more extended growl, especially from the
Agamemnons, proving that admiration for their captain was not confined to those who served abaft the mast.

‘So let it out.’

‘I would be obliged, good sir, if you could let go of my neckerchief.’

The atmosphere had changed so the senior-looking mid eased his grip on Charlie, who having been pinned against a wall, could sink a little so his feet were firmly planted again.

‘Talk, man.’

‘I will at that, Your Honour. They was saying that Nelson was a right nuisance at Calvi and the place would have fallen double quick if he had not kept poking his nose into matters about which he knew less than nowt.’

‘Is that word for word?’

Charlie paused, and if Michael was too far gone to see it, Rufus was not. His mate was thinking on the wing and he had on his storytelling face; that cocked head and slight look of wonder, as if what he was relating was too far-fetched to be possible.

‘Well, I don’t want to be in the way of causin’ trouble, but it were a mite more foul put than that. They was not kind about Captain Nelson’s parentage, let me say, who could not be sure of a claim for any man or woman to have bred him. They reckoned him the spawn of some whore who had been found in the church doorway.’

That was not well received and Charlie spoke quickly lest the room was tempted to take it out on him. ‘Nor were they mellow about his height, calling him a stunted dwarf and, it hurts me to say this, but they made out he was likely partial to his midshipmen, as much as they seemed to be partial to him. Said if he ever came to the Pensy Ambrose they would
provide him with somewhere Italian to put his meat, for there was no shortage of bumboys in Leghorn.’

The anger was no growl now, but loud and continuous protests as Charlie added, his face darkening, ‘Mind, they was of the opinion, and I nearly took issue with them for the way it were said, that all tars were alike in that respect.’

‘What’s this Pensy place?’ called a voice.

‘No notion, but I reckon it must be where they is billeted.’ Charlie’s face screwed up as if he was trying to remember. ‘Yes, I reckon that to be the right of it. I had a mate called Ambrose so I recall the name, though it was said in the local fashion, with bits and bobs on the end.’

‘I say these bullocks need to be minded of their manners,’ said the mid who had collared Charlie, and that turned the growls to cheers, as well as shouts, filled with agreement and deadly threats.

Charlie was free now, and since every eye followed his assailant as he went to accost the man who ran the tavern, he was able to wink at Rufus without being observed. The conversation that followed with the owner, in a combination of stilted English and the local Tuscan, was not swift, but it must have been fruitful, because the midshipman was able to announce that he now had the location of a place called the Pensione d’Ambrosio with the added information that it was no more than a few streets distant.

‘Now, I am minded, and I know my fellow mids will back me in this, to teach these bullocks a lesson and it would do us no harm to find out which of them can swim. You here who are Agamemnons, I leave it to you to decide if you will hear of your commander being so traduced or follow us to set the men who insulted him straight.’

The man closest to Rufus turned to ask what traduced meant; the youngster was not able to tell him. ‘But it can’t be good mate.’

‘So who’s with me?’

That got a roar of approval as he led the way to the exit, followed by nearly everyone in the tavern, which brought a gloomy look to the swarthy face of the tavern keeper, who saw his profits for the night disappearing through the door. Michael, slightly bewildered, was swaying in the middle of a now near deserted floor when Charlie took his arm, calling to Rufus to grab the other.

‘Come on, we best get to a boat an’ back aboard
Larcher
. Last thing we want is to be still on land when the shit flies through the hawsehole.’

O’Hagan was not easy to move and both his friends kept a weather eye on his fists, for in times past they had seen them employed in the hostelry from which they took their soubriquet, and the notion of being on the receiving end was not one to savour. It was a struggle to get him through the door and out into the Italian night.

‘Come along, Michael, keep your feet a’going. Remember John Pearce’s orders.’

The curses that O’Hagan then heaped on that name were foul, insults that his friends would not repeat to the man at whom they were aimed. It was also a good thing he could not hear them either.

The meal John Pearce had consumed, if not spectacular, was pretty good, which proved that either Lepeé, or someone else in the pantry knew their stuff. He had already noted the quality of the wine and when he praised it he was treated to a
sly smile and the information that it had been taken out of a prize ship he had taken and not declared as part of the ship’s stores, as it should have been.

‘One thing the French do well, Mr Pearce, is in the article of the grape.’

‘I would be willing to drink to that, sir.’

‘Then let us do so, but add that we must also confound them as our enemies.’

The table talk had ranged over a variety of subjects and with just two at the board it had flowed easily, Ralph Barclay notwithstanding, though the name did crop up on one occasion. Not that the host pressed: the case against the man was none of the commodore’s doing and if he sought to mitigate Pearce’s remarks it was not with passion enough to force a reaction.

Pearce was careful to make no mention of Hotham and his activities on Barclay’s behalf – he did not feel he knew Nelson well enough to confide – though mention of the admiral’s name produced a flash of distaste on Nelson’s face; he was not a man who found it easy to disguise his feelings, which were quickly covered by unstinting praise for Samuel Hood, who was the best sailor and commanding admiral in the whole of the King’s Navy.

‘So you do not hold your five years on the beach against him?’

‘No, Mr Pearce, he would have given me a ship if he could, but I do not ask any man to lay their head on the block for me. The people who stood in the way of my employment I like to think were not navy.’

Moving on, it was obvious Nelson hated the Revolution with a passion, born of his love of country and the stability
of the English nation, added to which he blamed them fair and square for the loss of the American colonies. This being declaimed, Pearce was obliged to ask how he would have held on to them in the face of their intransigence, only to find his host short on a practical answer. But given the vehemence of his opinion, it seemed best for Pearce not to come out, as had his father very vocally, in support of their claim to liberty.

Nelson was doing most of the talking, but it was not one-sided and he had the good grace to never raise an eyebrow at disagreement. His guest soon realised he was in the company of a committed warrior, a man keen to discuss battle tactics in a way that seemed to fly over his head, but he made what interjections he could, of a bellicose nature, which brought praise.

‘I see you and I are of one mind there, Mr Pearce, but I wonder if we could move from shot and shell to your forthcoming mission?’

When Pearce nodded, it seemed to place some constraint on Nelson, who paused for several seconds before he continued.

‘As well as the despatches I will give to you before you depart, I wonder if you would oblige me, as you did previously, by carrying some personal letters.’

‘Of course.’

‘There is one to Sir William Hamilton.’ Nelson actually blushed then and his voice lost any assurance. ‘I have written, too, another letter to his wife, Lady Hamilton.’

‘Which I will happily deliver,’ Pearce responded, failing to pick up on Nelson’s discomfort.

‘Without, I hope, troubling Sir William regarding its existence?’

That had Pearce pausing, but only for a brief period as he sought to fillet the bones out of what had just been said. Nelson wanted a letter delivered to a woman who was somewhat notorious in terms of gossip at home, without letting know her husband, who the same tittle-tattle had as a credulous old fool who had been ensnared by a beautiful Circe, which made him wonder at what might be the contents. On only a brief acquaintance he himself had seen that she was something of a temptress and was certainly attractive. Having thought that through, he was swift to conclude it was none of his concern.

‘I will, of course, be happy to oblige, sir.’

‘I hasten to add there is nothing untoward in this, Mr Pearce. It is merely that any man might object to another fellow communicating openly with his wife.’

But you wrote to her before, Pearce was thinking, and there were no instructions then requesting discretion, which begged the question of what had changed since? These thoughts had to be put aside, as Nelson was praising Emma Hamilton to the deckbeams.

‘Lady Hamilton is as much an aid to our cause as is he. I swear when I asked for aid to support us at Toulon it was her intervention that caused it to be provided so speedily. When it comes to royal influence, she is the one to apply to, for she has the ear of the Queen.’

‘A fact, sir, of which I was made aware when I met her.’

‘And I am sure she made an equal impression on you, sir, as she did on me.’

Pearce remained silent, though still pondering on his host’s now very apparent feelings of awkwardness; in Paris he had enjoyed conversations with the husband of his then
mistress without experiencing the least awkwardness. Why would he not when the man’s own mistress was in the same salon? How different was France from rural England, the society from which Nelson came, and Emily likewise; not London – it was as lax as any capital city would be about such relationships and Naples was even more so.

He was also thinking that Nelson, being in Leghorn and certain to go ashore, was bound to hear about Emily and him. Was this an opportunity to confide in a man who might be less quick to judge? After all, he seemingly held another man’s wife in such high regard that he was cautious about her husband having knowledge of the depth of it?

It was a possible chance to counter any malicious tales Nelson was bound to hear, a chance to put the case for the triumph of love over duty. The chance came and then went; he had thought too long and he felt the moment to speak had passed again because Nelson was still praising.

‘I have met them but once, though that was enough to have me esteem them both highly.’ The emphasis was on the both. ‘King George could not have a more accomplished representative in Naples, and Sir William would be the first person to tell you what a helpmeet she is even within the palace. The royal children are very fond of her.’

‘I do not wish to allude to her reputation, sir—’

‘Tripe, and uncooked at that,’ Nelson snapped. ‘Rumour of the most pernicious kind set against a lady those who speak of her have never met. You would struggle, sir, to find a kinder and more generous soul, who takes under her wing any of the waifs and strays who end up in Naples, for it is, as I am sure you are aware, a stop on the Grand Tour for those interested in classical Rome.’

‘Sir William is certainly an avid collector.’

‘He digs with gusto, that is true.’ Nelson essayed another pause and a deep intake of breath. ‘I am sure you found in him and his wife two people of a stock to make you proud. For the people who traduce them, well, I cannot tell you, Mr Pearce, how I abhor such talk.’

‘It is not something of which I am fond, either, sir.’